Masked
by RainingDae2
Summary: An old story I wrote for as requested by an old friend of mine Based on Howl's Moving Castle. ItachiXMadara basically, but Itachi is Howl, Madara is Sophie. A Royal Ball is coming up and one wizard needs a mask.
1. Chapter 1

C**hapter 1**

He felt a shiver of excitment run through his body when his fingers wrapped around ivory shaft. He giggled and carresed it's lenght slowly as he brought it closer to his face to examine the beauty of his new tool. It was twenty centimeters long, along with the round head, in which the finest threads were sewn. He turned it around, and there, at the flat back of the head engraved lay the words:

_For my dearest Weasel_

_with love, Fox_

He smiled and ran the beautiful new hairbrush through his long, silky blonde hair.

He did it again.

And again.

Until his hair reflected the daylight which managed to come through a few windows of his room. He observed his reflection in the giant baroque style mirror. He admired his big black eyes, framed by long eyelashes and was almost lost in his imagination when a doorbell startled him.

He strode to the front door and opened it, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

He surley didn't expect a royal messenger to come by. He thought the boy looked kind of funny in that yellow – purple uniform and wondered was the hat too small or the boy's head was too big.

He tried to remeber what had he done for this to occur when the boy bowed and handed him an envelope, muttering:

„Good afternon, Mister. I am here to deliver this directly from the Queen."

„Thank you." he responded and took the message from the boy, with slighty shaking hands.

The boy bowed again and muttered a goodbye before disappearing, leaving a startled wizard behind.

He walked inside, wondering how did they know where he was, but then again, no one could hide from the Queen.

He sat on one of his many ottomans, opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

„ _Oh_."

_Dear Wizard,_

_we are delighted to invite you as a special guest in Annual Spydertown City Royal Ball. As it has been so far, each year the Ball featuers a theme. This year it is a Costume Ball. _

_The Annual Spydertown City Royal Ball will be held in Lion's Citadel this Sunday at 8 o'clock in the afternoon._

_We are looking forward to seeing you there!_

_Signed, _

_Bartholomew Rulers_

_chief president of The Ball Comitee_

_Department of Wienners Balls_

The Wizard read the invitation a few times, calculating. Why would he, the dreadful Wizard be invited to such, as it seems, important event. It's not like his reputation is on his side – everyone thinks he eats girls's hearts.

He doesn't.

Then it's like a lightbulb lit in his brain! They want him there so they could catch him!

But on the other hand, why would they send him an invitation right on his doorstep and leave if they wanted that?

He shrugged and folded the pink parchment back to it's original shape and left it on the counter.

„ A costume ball..." he thinks out loud and scratches his chin, of course, looking in the mirror.

„That means I need a costume." and immediately the wide door on his left spread open revealing a collection of the most colorful and obnoxious clothes.

There were tuxedos – yellow silk, purple satin with green lace, blue squirrel fur with white fox fur as collar (_courtesy of Fox, with love _sewn in gold letters on the inside), pink velvet jacked paired with brown velvet pants along with green laced collar and a matching hat which was decorated with enormous peacock feathers and many more.

There were shoes. Black, blue, pink, white, anycolor suede, leather, shoes.

There were hats – big hats, small hats, funny hats, serious hats.

But no costumes.

The wizard frowned. „Maybe books know something." and the second wide door, on his right, opened revealing a library that would put the Congress one to shame.

About two hundred volumes snuggled out of their shelves and danced around the room, following paths wizard's moving fingers showed and sat neatley on pillows the wizard put out for them.

„Now reveal me your masked secrets!" and just when he said that words he bursted out into laughter.

„Yes! Yes!" he danced.

„I need a mask!" and all books sat up from the pillows like happy puppies and danced around the Wizard.

When he finally came to his senses, he wondered.

„What kind of mask?"

One book (a big one, of yellow parchment) opened up. With black, bold letters it said:

need a new look?

„Well...Yes." the wizard answered as he read.

there's a costume ball coming up?

„Yes..." he answered now becoming slightly excited.

your hair is blonde?

„Yes?" he wondered how the hell the book knew that, but he kept on reading the ad.

if your answers are yes

visit Mad's masks shop!

we have all the masks you can possibly imagine!

find us at

Electric avenue, no 27

Mad's masks – helping you hide your real self since 234 b.c.

A huge grin lit up the wizard's face.

„Thank you, books! You've been most helpful!"

With this words he ripped out the Yellow Parchment's advertisment, and immediately a new one grew right out. The book giggled and flew back on it's shelf, along with others.

He put the ripped parchment into his pocket and draped his favourite pink cloak with grey squares over his white shirt, and slipped his feet into blue suede shoes.

„Let's go shopping!" he said and walked outside.

} **** {

„_I need more men._"

The place was crowded. There were about twenty people inside, but it still looked like the small shop would explode.

His hands hurt, the pain in his neck was becoming annoying and picked on him like a neglected child. The muscles of his face were burning from all the smiles and thank yous.

Yes, his friend and companion the Cash Register soon needed a new drawer because this one was almost full to it's limits, but work was killing him. Slowly. He couldn't do this alone anymore. One might judge him – with his nineteen years he should be able to handle this and much more, but his figure was gentle, and work had him worn out.

After ten more smiles and thank yous and ten more _ding_s of his friend and companion the shop was empty.

He sat on his worn out chair and watched with tired eyes one white feather's slow dance towards carpeted floor.

He sighed.

The Royal Ball meant he wouldn't have to worry about paying the rent, but it also meant he would lose his sleep and lose all his inventory.

He made himself a cup of warm milk and locked the front door, turning Open inside, making Closed show it's face on the outside.

He examined The Inventory Book and made a list of items he needed to get.

So he put on his hat and cloak, and left for The Hunt, as he liked to call supplying.

The day was nice, sunny. Instead of clouds, the sky was spotted with advertisments of Royal Ball, which was only five days away. The city already looked amazing, with colorful flags, posters and other decorations. Even though the ball itself was held in one of three citadels of the city, the entire Spydertown celebrated that day. It was the Day When Spydertown Was Founded.

He walked across the crowded main square, then boarded one of the also crowded city transportation wagons. Driving across the Bridge of Bad Luck, he saw gathered people welcoming the arriving royal guests – dutchesses, dukes, counts, along with the army.

And there were more to come. Climbing off the wagon, he made his way through the crowd then into a labyrinth of alleys, which he knew well. A few more turns and he will be on his goal.

His heart skipped a beat when two soldiers noticed him.

„Hey, you little mouse. Are you looking for something?" soldier number 1 asked, leaning casually on the wall and coming straight into his face.

„No, sir. Nothing." he answered, trying to keep calm.

„Then how about having a cup of tea with us?" soldier number 1 asked as soldier no 2, the one with a moustache, came closer.

„No, thanks, I'm in a hurry", he said, his heart beating so fast he thought it might hit one of the solidiers in the face.

They started to ask questions, coming closer and closer into his face, so he stepped back slowly.

„Please let me go!" he cried.

They laughed.

„You're cute when you're angry..." soldier number 1 said. He felt tears form in his eyes when they leaned even further, as if they were about to...

„Oh, there you are!"

A voice.

The voice.

The soldiers stood right up, like a broom was shoved up paralell to their spines, with comically surprised look on their faces.

A hand on his shoulder.

„I was looking for you."

Yes, he's been startled, but a skip of his heart was nothing at that point compared to what it was doing when the stranger slid his hand further down his shoulder, letting it hang there in a lovable, relaxed fashion, and nudged him closer to his body.

„Who are you?" soldier number 2 asked the stranger.

„I'm his buddy. By the way, why don't you go for a walk for a while?" the stranger answered and moved his fingers in such matter the soldiers moved like dolls on a thread, and walked away.

„Please forgive them." a voice said in his ear. Seriously, from all this startling he might have a heart attack, but when he looked into those dark eyes and smiling face he felt...well he felt.

„They didn't mean to hurt you."

He just nodded, mesmerized by stranger's beauty.

„Where are you going, young man? Let me escort you for a while."

„Uh, no thanks. I'm just going to The Hunt..." he managed to find his voice, lost somewhere between the stranger's eyes and lips.

The stranger leaned into his face. „The Hunt?" he asked.

He almost slapped himself. „Uh..well..shopping for some inventory..."

„Oh, I..." the stranger said. Suddenly his eyes flew up to a point above his head and turned into slits. A split moment later they were walking together casually, like they have been doing that forever. The stranger's grip hardened on his shoulder.

„So, why the hunt?" the stranger asked in that sinful voice of his.

„Like...like I said, I'm supplying for my inventory."

„Inventory of what?"

They made a turn. He heard a soft _thud _but didn't look back.

„Um... masks. I make and sell masks."

They stopped dead in their tracks.

The stranger turned and again leaned into him. Were those stars in his eyes?

He instictively leaned back.

„Masks?" the stranger asked.

He nodded.

He thought the stranger's face would split in half how wide his smile was. And he thought he would die to be able to cause that smile again.

„What's your name, boy?"

„Ma..." he was about to articulate his name when the stranger covered him in his cloak and everything turned black.

„_Seriously?!_" he thought.

„Everything's fine, just be still." the stranger (at this point he was no longer a stranger, but still, for the lack of vocabulary...) whispered.

After a few loud heartbeats, he whispered a sorry and left with a _woosh _of his cloak.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

C**hapter 2**

It would be shameful to say a mess was in his head.

It was, well, it was greater than a mess.

After the blonde stranger had left, he couldn't move for a few minutes. He tried to examine and rationilise the previous events, but found he didn't have the strenght to.

With his bags full of new inventory, he strode home, walking slowly, almost on auto-pilot, because his thoughts were with the blonde saviour. He didn't even get his name.

Who did he look like?

Wille?

Steve?

He smiled to himself.

No.

Herman?

He nearly reached his shop.

_Mad's Masks_ read the heavy iron sign above the antique door. He made a mental note to polish the sign.

Once inside, he opened every window to let fresh air and started cleaning, then set new items to the window and got to work. The sun was slowly setting, and he felt sleep reach his bones.

But, no, there was no rest for him because tomorrow is the fourth day until the ball and that meant more customers will come to his shop.

He, for the second time that day, made himself a cup of warm milk, this time adding some cinnamon, and relaxed. Then he examined the items spread on his workbench, but didn't actually see them.

Instead of colorful feathers, he saw blond hair, which looked so soft. Instead of silk cloths he saw pale, pale skin. Instead of gems he saw onyx eyes. Eyes that had stars in them. Eyes that held him safe.

Those thoughts scared him, and he immediately grabbed the first white porcelain shape which was to become a mask.

He worked, and worked, and as time passed there were fifteen new masks spread out in front of him, each more beautiful than the last.

„_Ian seemed very intimidated by me mentioning masks. Maybe he wanted one?_" entered his mind.

Ian. That was the name he decided to give his saviour. He thought it suited.

He saw another blank mask. It was shaped like an animal.

„_A weasel?_"

} **** {

His heart was pounding, but he was smiling. He knew he was way smarter than them. Way smarter.

That's why he was so far away up here, and they were growling with fury and confusion down there, looking like a bunch of lost, ugly, black worms.

He laughed harder and flew home.

His house wasn't big, but it wasn't small, too. It reminded him of a castle and was located on the edge of the city, almost in a forest. It had a roof, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, one kitchen and one dining room, a library and a closet. And a basement. And an attic.

It was just that – a house.

One thing that he liked the most were ottomans. Even though he had many of them, one was his particular favourite – a green, worn out one. It had a deligthful curve and golden threads criss – crossed the soft green material. So, after he washed up, he took a book and made himself comfortable in said ottoman. He sipped on a beverage Calcifer made him – a mixture of lemonade and honey.

He watched the Earth eat the orange from his cosy seat in front of the window. A book lay in his hand, forgotten.

All of a sudden he found he couldn't move. He looked around and he wasn't in front of a window, but in a – bedroom? Yes, he could reckon a matress, and a pillow, and a baldachin, and a boy. A boy? No, a young man.

He blinked.

A smile spread on pretty face that was just a few steps away from him. He did admire long raven hair, and he did admire endless black eyes, and he knew the young man was familiar.

But he couldn't remember where he saw him.

Heart pounded faster when the pretty raven glided over to his bedside and slid up like a content cat. Like a content cat that was just about to get it's dessert. Itachi was surprised by the reaction of his body when the young man licked his lips and spread his knees before setting himself over Itachi's hips.

_Just right there._

He tried to move his hands, he wanted to touch the lean body that was moving so slowly and he wanted to put his fingers in that mouth that was releasing soft, almost soundless moans and he wanted to grip that silky hair that was dancing over the young man's shoulders as he moved.

No, his hands were tied spread – eagle with a red ribbon.

He felt the young man was excited.

And so was Itachi.

The young man didn't hestitate in peeling Itachi's pants over his hips, or gripping his iron – hard dick and licking it like a lollipop, making sure it was shiny with spit before standing up, sliding his whisper thin white robe over his pretty head, making his hair fly, and presenting Itachi with a sight he doubted he would ever forget.

His hair was spilled over his lean back and with a grace of an angel he rode him, and Itachi was desperate of need to grip that hair, to pull the young man's head back even more and thrust inside for all he was worth.

But this was also more than enough because with every breath motions became faster and more desperate before turning into wild, uncontrolled storm, and with awe he watched and felt the young man climax with a moan that he barely heard from his own racing heart beating in his ears. And the young man didn't stop moving until Itachi burst inside him with a deaf scream, burning his insides.

Itachi's eyes flew open and he felt he was wet. Everywhere. His heart beated faster then ever in his life.

He got up and rubbed his temples. He looked outside the window and found nothing but stars and a bright, shiny moon. The book was on the floor.

Throwing his clothes on his way to the bathroom, he tried to reckon what just happened to him. He didn't even notice he fell asleep, but apparently he did. He slid inside the warm bubbly bath and let the calming lavander calm his mind and body .

But his heart was still restless.

} **** {

He woke up with a pounding heart and his head in silk. He didn't remember what he dreamt about, but a pounding heart was a new. It was dark outside, and his antique clock said it was four in the morning. He frowned and shivered in cold, then stretched his aching back, running his hand through sleep – russled strands of his long hair.

One lamp bathed the cosy room in soft, orange glow. He was satisfied with work, and felt a rush of pride in his veins. He got up and cleaned up first the workbench – putting aside sccissors, meters of silk and satin, feathers, water colors and other tools, then made that few small steps to the shop. He was always surprised and amazed by the artwork in the heavy mahagony doorway which separated the two rooms – roses with leaves and little foxes and if he didn't know better he would have thought they were once alive, before something evil turned them into wood, that's how beautiful it was – and always he stopped for just a moment or two to admire the handiwork.

But not this time.

No, this time he stood, petrified. He was not alone.

Someone, something was there.

He could feel goosebumps rise over his skin and his heart beat fast. He tried to calm his breath and started counting when, with a slow _shhhh_, a dark shadow moved from his left.

„Wh..." he gulped – „...Who goes there?" he started to sweat, thinking how he didn't have anything to defend himself with.

A soft laugh could be heard from the figure that was becoming bigger with each „step" (it looked to him as if it was gliding) until it reached it's full height for about two meters when it stopped right in front of him.

He gripped the doorway tight and looked up to where he supposed the eyes were. He wished he knew where his voice went, and his heart was hammering in his chest making his head swirl.

„Madara." the chilling, frightening voice came from the hooded figure and two dots of red light apperared in the center of the creature's head.

He gulped before speaking. „Who are you? How do you know my name?"

„It doesn't matter. I have a request." the figure answered.

„Y – yes?"

„I need a mask."

} **** {

_My dearest Fox,_

_I have recieved your present, and I am enjoying it with most delight! Thank you very much!_

_I am sure it is going to be of great assistance to me in my preparation for the Great Royal Ball, to which I have been invited to – much to my own surprise. I do look forward to the event, and I am excited to get to know why would they want me there._

_However, I still haven't found the mask or the costume. I will rely on my lucky stars to aid me in my quest and I wish upon one to send you and Hawk my love!_

_ Yours truly,_

_Weasel_

_P.S. _

_Calcifer waves a hello!_

Itachi read the letter again and again before folding it neatly and wrapping it in an envelope, which he then sealed with purple vax, pressing the wax with an imprint of a weasel with his ring. When he was satisfied with his handiwork he got up and took an owl, whispering the address to the creature. The owl clamped his arm tightly before spreading it's wings and heading for crisp morning sky.

The blonde sighed heavily, following the magnificent bird with his eyes until it disappeared from the horizon.

„What's the matter?" Calcifer asked in a sleepy voice, strolling over to the cabinet where they kept potions and ointments of various kinds. He yawned loudly and reached for the small glass jar of ointment which label said _Calendula Lemonum evanesca _and a tall bottle with light purple liquid in it, called _Lavandula Oilquid_ then passed them to Itachi.

„Here, these should help. Make sure you soak..."

„Wha..No!"

Calucifer blinked twice, slowly, reminding Itachi of the owl which left moments ago. Or maybe a lemur.

He laughed. „Thank you, Calucifer, but it's not _that_ the thorn in my mind."

„Oh..." Calucifer said, putting back the jar and bottle back to where they belong. „What is it then?" A circle of flame appeared on the iron stove and he picked a heavy iron pan then put it over the circle, then went for eggs and vegetable.

„Well...I've been invited to the ball, you know that. And as I was lurking around town yesterday, trying to find this shop to acquire myself a much needed mask, I came across...a young man."

A loud _smack_.

„Who?" Calucifer asked.

„I don't know what his name is, but he makes masks." Itachi smiled a genuine smile. The flame underneath the heavy pan in which glorious flavours sizzled flashed immensly for a moment or two before settling back to normal.

„I see. Did you find already what kind of mask would you like to wear?" the redhead answered breaking two eggs.

„No, not yet. He was just about to tell me his name when Sluggishes attacked."

Calucifer didn't say anything for one long minute, he just continued with his cooking.

„Do you think Fox will visit anytime soon? I would really like to meet him."

„I don't know." Itachi answered pouring himself a cup of milk and sipped.

„Set the table, breakfast is almost over."

„Mad's Masks."

„What?"

„Mad's Masks is the name of the shop I wanted to visit yesterday, but I got lost. That's when I met the young mask maker."

Calucifer looked at Itachi like he was some kind of weird animal.

„Why are you looking at me funny?"

} **** {


End file.
